Squalor
by don'tleave.don'tgo.don'tdie
Summary: Esme has more control over him that he knows. JeromexEsme
1. Chapter 1

Fair warning, I guess. Chapter 1 is fairly tame, chapters 2 and 3 get quite directly into hot and heavy stuff. The tonal shift is rather remarkable, so don't be too surprised.

Are disclaimers necessary? This is Lemony Snicket if he was writing for a lad's magazine or something.

* * *

As soon as they broke the kiss, Esmé pulled out a pair of handcuffs and whispered, "Handcuffs are extremely in at the moment." Jerome immediately balked. This was not how he envisioned his wedding night to be; he expected it to be slow, sweet and passionate. Toys they'd introduce in at least a month into a marriage, he thought. Just to spice it up a little. But the main focus would always be each other. Intimacy.

Judging from the way his new wife kicked off her shoes and casually undressed, he had a feeling that she didn't exactly view their consummation in the same way.

"What's wrong? Nervous?" Esmé said, noticing the slightly frightened look in Jerome's eyes. Without the heels, she was just up to Jerome's eyes; she was tall, but he was taller yet. Her eyes flickered around his face, probing his feelings, before slowly moving into a surprisingly tender kiss. Jerome's eyes widened. Esmé had never showed such... tenderness in their relationship. She's always been rash, bold, stubborn... maybe even rude and apathetic. Jacques had warned him against rushing into marriage, in fact, he disapproved entirely of Esmé, but there was something intoxicating about her aloofness, something powerful that only served to hold his attention when it came to her. He'd shower her with gifts, which she would enthusiastically accept – only if it was in. He'd learnt to phone ahead to receive updates on the constantly changing fashion, adding up to enormous phone bills – but when you're in love, money didn't matter. For Esmé, however, love and money were interchangeable.

Esmé's hands reached up to caress his face, jaw dark with stubble. His mouth captured her heat, and his heart fluttered in expectation and hope – maybe it wouldn't be as... dirty as he first thought; maybe Esmé wants it to be a memorable night of passion as well... He closed his eyes and submitted to Esmé's deep kiss, his hands exploring her smooth, elegantly curved back, thumbing her bra strap.

The sound of cloth ripping and the sudden gust of cold air on his chest snapped his eyes wide open. He pulled away and looked down at his open shirt, buttons rolling about the floor. He looked up at Esmé with a look of confusion and surprise. Definitely unnecessary.

"Was that necessary?" he frowned, fingering the ragged edges of the buttonholes in his shirt. "This shirt cost quite a fair bit-"

"Oh, don't be a baby," Esmé snapped, walking towards Jerome, impatiently kicking aside the buttons that dared impede her way. "You can always buy a new one." She hungrily attacked his neck, trailing her fingers through his down of chest hair, circling nipples and drawing a gasp of what could only be described as ecstasy from Jerome; tonight... tonight it'll finally happen.

"Well," he panted, hands again sliding up Esmé's body. "I don't like to argue..."

"Then don't," Esmé growled, before shoving him onto the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

This was definitely not how he envisioned it to be.

He strained against the two bedposts to which he was handcuffed, face-down and spread-eagled, panting with want, the cuffs digging into his wrists. Esmé reclined in front of him, touching herself with deliberation and much care, hands seductively sliding down her front – trailing over erect nipples – before sliding a manicured finger inside herself, eyes almost arrogantly holding Jerome's as she moaned, lips full and open. Jerome's knees were starting to hurt. He lifted himself up and dragged himself further onto the bed, until his arms were pulled back and he was resting on his stomach.

"Esmé," he panted, a very fine sheen of sweat covering his forehead. "Please..."

Esmé arched her back slowly, her plump breasts rising and descending gradually and let out a long, drawn-out moan before focusing on her newly instated husband. A shiver went down his spine. He thrust involuntarily against the new, soft quilt before taking a deep breath to compose himself . Breathing hard, hands clenched white with desire, he looked imploringly up at his love and whispered, "It would be nice if you'd stop denying me."

Esmé carelessly slid her finger out, and, with the same finger, trailed a wet path over her contours, before crawling onto all fours and padding her way to Jerome. She thrust her face up against his ear and sighed deeply, exhaling passion, before capturing his eager mouth in a fiery kiss.

"You want me?" she whispered in a voice that made him strain against the cuffs again. She lay down in front of him and slowly parted her legs, positioning them so that they rested on his arms, her soles on his back. Her eyes never left his. "Then have me," she hissed imperiously, grabbing his head and pushing it down onto her.

He tried to keep up with her. He did his best –gently biting her inner thighs, hungrily tonguing her lips, lapping and licking, dreadfully sloppily to his slight shame – but she never seemed to be sated, grinding roughly against his face whilst moaning loudly. Her legs tensed, and she ran her feet up and down his back, digging them into his sides when he licked a particularly good spot, sliding them under to rub against his chest and nipples. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged sharply, hard enough to make Jerome wince, but he continued on, driving her onwards to her pleasure.

Eventually, rough tongue licking furiously, Jerome sensed a change in her tone of voice. Her moans were softer, quicker, yet more tender. Her body seemed to tense, her legs coiling, toes pointed, whilst a hand explored her soft breasts, fingers stroking her alabaster skin. Encouraged by this, Jerome renewed his efforts, ignoring the ache in his jaw, the tight ache in his groin.

Now Esmé was panting, a high-pitched mewl escaping from her soft lips, one hand furiously scrunching in Jerome's hair, the other caressing almost violently her breasts, glowing warmly in the soft light. She ground furiously against Jerome, and he tried his best to move with her, attempting to time his licks with her erratic thrusting. All the while, his eyes scanned her face, hoping to make eye contact, connect on an intimate level. Not once did she open her eyes. Not even when she let out a loud throaty moan, her back arching as pleasure shot through her body. Not even when she pressed his face against her and positively rubbed him against her. Not even when she dug her toes into his shoulders and her entire body stiffened and she didn't move for half a minute, prolonging her climax by pushing against Jerome.

She shuddered and breathed heavily. She licked her lips and sighed.

Only when she came back down did she open her eyes and look at Jerome, himself panting, partly in expectation and partly in need, and his eager smile, pleased at his own efforts, made her smirk.

"That was positively delicious," she purred, lazily arching her back again as her body tingled with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I haven't felt that good since the last In Auction, where I bought the chocolate flavoured lubricant". She sighed dreamily and smiled with half-lidded eyes at Jerome. "Did you enjoy that?"

Jerome had to try very hard not to climax himself at that moment, having just witnessed the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life.

"Very much so," he panted. "Now may we...?" His heavy breathing was all that could be heard for a couple of seconds, before Esmé laughed, like shimmering glass, as she registered his request.

"Don't be silly, Jerome. Sex is out. It just came in this evening, whilst you were collecting honey butter for me at the Honey District. Surely you don't want me to be out of fashion! How would that look to my colleagues and friends?"

"Ah," was all that Jerome could say. Crestfallen was to say the least. He felt betrayed, hurt and most of all, very stupid. Of course he should've checked what was in fashion before attempting anything.

A soft kiss on his cheek made him look up, and Esmé's tongue slid into his mouth, and he closed his eyes and God she tasted good. She pulled back and ran a tongue against his cheek, whispering seductively, "You taste like me".

He strained once more against the handcuffs.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a compromise.

Sex may be out, but, as Esmé had emphasized in the most physical way, everything else was most certainly in.

Jerome was now on his back, still handcuffed to the bedposts and still very aroused. Esmé was almost completely on top of him, straddling one leg, whilst gently caressing his jaw with a hand, kissing him with surprising tenderness. The other hand roamed languidly over his chest, toying with his nipples, tracing the patterns of his chest hair down to his groin. She suddenly stilled her hand at his belly button.

"Ah ah," she tutted breathily, as Jerome thrust his hips once more. She rubbed her hand firmly against his belly, and he groaned with desire.

"I don't like to argue, and I understand that you'd want to take things slow-" His breath hitched as she bit his neck and began sucking, one hand sliding dangerously close to his aching shaft. "But it's been half an hour of this and dear God, Esmé, I just need you."

She stopped sucking and whispered, "And you have me."

Jerome hesitated, knowing she was skirting his request, taking his words literally.

"Esmé," he started, unsure of how to continue. She made a noise in her throat as she continued attacking his neck, and suddenly, she slid a soft wrist over his shaft, continuing onwards to caress his thigh. "Esmé," he groaned. "Esmé, dear God, just fuck me."

She responded by biting his neck, once, quite painfully. He winced, and she immediately pulled herself up to look at him directly in the eyes. She was unaccustomed to direct Jerome. She was much more used to soft, meandering Jerome. She wasn't sure how it made her feel.

"Blowjobs are out." She leaned in closer and bit one of his lips, chewing gently.

Jerome pulled away, eyes filled with almost desperation.

"That is completely fine, dear. Anything you want."

Esmé made the same pensive noise in her throat, before sliding her hand up a thigh. Jerome moaned at the touch of her soft, smooth palm – oh, how it'd feel wrapped around his length – convinced that it was finally his turn to be shattered. He quivered, having had dreamt about this moment upon first meeting Esmé. He had to clench himself to prevent himself from climaxing already; he had been waiting for so long, and she was so close.

He groaned with pain when she continued to run her hand up his torso, fondling instead with his chest hair and his nipples.

"Esmé," he moaned. "Please." His eyes were already unfocused, and he thrust again, involuntarily.

She sighed, before lazily wrapping one hand around him. He immediately started thrusting against her hand, his silky flesh made smoother through the pre-cum coating the tip of his member. Esmé smiled and slowly started pumping, pushing his hips down with the other hand so that she was in sole control. Jerome's eyes rolled back as she picked up speed, the sound of flesh on flesh spurring him quicker to his release. All the pent-up pleasure from the beginning of this whole play came building up deep within his stomach, before a sudden warmth ran through his base; his breath hitched-

Head tilted back, he gave a long groan as his back arched, his seed spurting powerfully and erratically out from the tip of his member to coat his wife's hand and his own stomach thickly. Esmé viciously wiped away some that had gotten onto her face before casually wiping it on her husband's chest, making pensive noises as she scrawled a sticky finger through his chest hair.

"Very nice," she murmured, coyly playing with one of his erect nipples, the other hand still wrapped around his shaft. Jerome was panting now, still throbbing in Esmé's hand, and his body went limp, head thrown back as he savoured the immense pleasure – and even the relief – that Esmé had given to him. She slid her hand up his wet member, covered thickly with his semen, and he immediately twitched, sitting up with a moan, sensitive from having prolonged his release for so long.

"Very nice," she repeated, deliberately stroking him again, and he let out a sharp breath, pulling against his handcuffs as she continued to slide her hand up and down mercilessly. It was like he couldn't breathe.

"Esmé," he panted, head lolling back and forth. "Esmé. Ah. Stop." She gave it one last squeeze before crawling towards him, and kissing him again on the mouth. She smirked without an obvious reason, but he was still soaring on his high, and he allowed himself to be selfish for just once, letting the question expire between his lips. She nibbled his ear, and Jerome felt nothing but happiness. They sank back into the pillows, his head still swimming with pleasure and aching love. Hers was already thinking of the next night.

Maybe this time she'll say male orgasms are out.


End file.
